Poisonous Blossoms
by Gangsta Videl
Summary: The poison was blossoming inside of her... Seymour's truths and Yuna's lies.


**Poisonous Blossoms**

A/N: Hmm... This'll earn me a beatin'. Yep. Just like my loud, often painful criticism of the 1976 Carrie, which was so _not_ like the book. Does that have anything to do with this story?

... No. No, it does not. XP

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X. Nope. Otherwise, well... I don't know yet. XD Maybe it would've had cool side quests, like... Chasing small animals into rivers or herding sheep. GAH... sheep... xo

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Poisonous Blossoms

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One touch, and he knew.

That one taste, and he knew.

One glance in that direction, and he knew.

This was his poison.

Perhaps not quite so figuratively as it might sound, but the result was true. The woman next to him, so beautiful was she, that he could almost feel his blood becoming entoxicated from the very sight of her.

She held the flowers in both hands so tenderly, as though they were more fragile and delicate than even glass. If only she could have seen her own self... She'd have seen that she, too, looked the part of a beautiful maiden of glass, sculpted into perfection and breathed into life.

But how could she see it? Her eyes were blind to her own beauty.

It saddened him to think that such a being could be so sweet and innocent as to not see their own attributes, though at the same time, doubted that she would ever see herself the way that he, and everyone else for that matter, viewed her.

Though, what if? His crystal blue eyes narrowed slightly in that thought. If this living doll were to, someday, discover that she was so coveted, would that change her?

Doubtful.

She had been raised to be this sweet, honest, and pure, and it was only by his deadly yet pointedly deceptive touch that she would ever form herself into anything different.

If he was successful in the least, she might never even realize his true agenda.

Such a thought brought the smile back to his lips. As long as she believed that it would be for the good of the people, she would never question a thing. It was one of the many beautiful things about this beautiful creature---her good-nature and a near inability to doubt another person.

Another gorgeous reason to love, honor, and cherish her.

The poison from his touch---and not just that alone, but his soul as well---would taint her precious beauty, leaving her hollowed out inside and ruined to the rest of the world. But what would that matter? She was a martyr to her own cause, and in time, her name would be remembered but her looks and wreckless abandon forgotten.

But who could forget the wife of the man so great?

Again, the brilliant yet razor sharp smile flit to the maester, Seymour's face. Yes, he was, indeed, a man of true and utter greatness. There wouldn't be any face in Spira that wouldn't soon know his name---not that they didn't already know. Who among the crowds could say that the name of Lady Yuna's groom was a mystery?

Not a single soul.

If she hadn't guessed that he was deadly by now, it would be too late. One fatal touch might prove to be too many for the sweet girl, though. If the looks upon her guardians' faces were anything to go by, he might as well have poisoned her already.

Oh, but he would not. _Physically_, at any rate.

If there was one thing Seymour was certain of, it was that women were of a higher standard than men. Having grown up with only a mother to look to, he knew that such was true, in a most painful way possible. Her 'friends' should have been proud that of all the women in the world, it was only the gentle Yuna that had enclosed his heart in her own flowery way.

They should have been proud.

Instead, they were angered.

He could not see why this should be. Yes, this darling summoner was to become his wife---as gorgeous a bride as could ever even wish to be, surrounded by close followers of Yevon, and even her so-called friends.

What more could she ask for?

Martyrs could not ask for love, as others tried so hard to find. It would be a fruitless search, and many innocent hearts would be shattered and tossed to the winds in the process. It would be better, then, to settle for someone who would be both loving and attentive.

She was but a summoner, though so much more than that in every aspect. As the daughter of the High Summoner Braska, it was to be expected that anything that would be for Spira's best interests would so also be in hers. So too would be the Final Summoning, in their own, _idiotic_ eyes.

Summoners were Spira's scapegoats. It was only by the sacrifice of their lives that Sin would be destroyed, and only for a short while before a new Sin appeared in its place. The aeons and people destroyed meant nothing to the people short of an expedient and inefficient relief of their own deeds. What were they all after in the end---something to end it all for good? Well, they certainly weren't getting anywhere whilst cowering in fear.

He had seen the brief look of pain and anger in her eyes whin his thick, long fingernails raked over her wrists, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the maester with no regard for her whatsoever. What, would she try and call it off now? It was far too late for that, and they both knew it. She would not dare crush Spira's hope---not now, not ever.

Not even a drop of blood fell from such a trifle scratch, though it wouldn't have to. He was already inside of her---the distrust and anger she must have kept bottled up inside herself all along. And for every moment that she had been unhappy, so too had the toxin inside of her veins grown all the more powerful.

He was her in the same way that she was he---one and the same, twisted together in a bout of fate.

One word from the maester, and that was all it took. His gnarled fingers hooked around her slender, unblemished shoulders, and he felt her resistance. Yes... The hooked smile on his lips grew more dangerous still.

So, she could see the poison dripped from his fangs. Not that it mattered now---it was too late. The flowers she'd dropped had been smashed underfoot, and so too would her hopes and dreams. And by the time he'd finished with her, she could only _wish _that her pilgrimage had gone by faster.

It was pointless to want for things gone-by. His eyes cut into her like glass in a fragile heart, ripping and tearing open yet never seen.

Her heart. His toxin.

It had been said by someone famous long ago, nearly a thousand years at this point. A young woman stood infatuated with a man whom could only claim possession to a handful of Blitzball skills and a most blackened soul. He, in turn, became attached to her only hours before she severed their strings.

_If you love them, let them go._

Her suicide mission had been interrupted, and so too had this one of Yuna's. But in this case, it would not be the good Maester Seymour who came to pull her out of harm's way. Her death would be a tragedy, perhaps, but necessary in order for peace to come to Spira. And it would be out of that love and grief that the people would come to his hand, and he would be the one to make glorious the name of the Guado.

The bells rang. His lips claimed hers, and though no such physical feat were admitted, the lingering dangers of his presence overwhelmed the young maiden. Unable to stand on her own, she held onto him.

His lips curled. One, two words... Her guardians were given a fleeting look, wondering if, perhaps, they could see through his guise to the toxins within.

"Kill them," he said simply, and his bride gasped out loud, her pale eyes staring up at him in horror.

And the poison was blossoming inside her.

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fin

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A/N: Hellooooo, new obsession! D And I should admit to a certain... dislike of Seymour. I don't hate him, I just hate the fact that he WON'T DIE and keeps coming back to beat my party's collective ass. xo

Other than that, he's awesome. If I could just think up a decent setting, I'll write more for FFX, and maybe even X-2, should I ever decide to finish those fics I started. Eh heh heh...

---Gangsta Videl


End file.
